Dating Mr Dudley
by GStales
Summary: Mr. Dudley is back in town and he has eyes for Miss Kitty.
1. Chapter 1

_**Dating Mr. Dudley**_

Gunsmoke fan-fiction

PG13

not for profit, just for fun

Gstales

They circled the peak, striving, straining, he driving closer, she clinging tight, yet meeting thrust for thrust. The age old rhythm of life, hearts pounding, racing ever faster. Even as their lips joined, panting, moaning, crying with desire. Wanton need their only objective until at last they reached the summit together. Joy like a thousand rainbows washed over her senses. She quaked and trembled until the last wave passed. She lay in his arms, spent, replete, her heart filled with such tender thanks that she could have found so rich a love in this godforsaken country. "I do." She whispered softly.

"What?" He asked, wrapped still in that bemused state of male contentment.

"Love you." She replied. "I do love you."

That one word was enough to jar him abruptly back to reality. Like a dog emerging from cold lake waters he jumped to his feet and shook himself off. "I gotta finish rounds." He announced hastily, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt before she could even take in the fact he'd left her lying, suddenly cold and bereft in a now lonely bed.

That, she figured out later, was how it all started.

_**One**_

Daryl D. Dudley, the only son of D. Delmar and his wife Dolores Day Dudley and heir to the Day-Dudley fortune which included the Double Double D Ranch, a holding the size of Ford County, opened the saloon doors. Young Mr. Dudley had just returned from the Grand Tour, a graduation present from his adoring parents.

The handsome lad had journeyed the world, consorted with New York Society, eastern seaboard aristocracy and dined amongst European royalty but in all his travels, had not encountered a woman as beautiful and intriguing as saloon gal, Kitty Russell. He had to admit the saloon part lowered her a bit in his estimation, however, she was perfect for what he had planned.

The object of his admiration was looking anything but glamorous at this point of day. Her gown, even on this cold winter afternoon, was sweat ringed and beer stained, her hair had long lost it's will to stay within the confines of a provocative do and any face paint had been washed away by perspiration. Still, to Daryl D. Dudley's perspective she was a welcomed sight.

The January winds blew through the open doors and he was met by a cowboy chorus of, "Shut the doors!"

Not the glorious entrance he had planned, he pushed his way into the saloon and walked with a somewhat pompous stride to Bill Pence. The saloon owner was standing behind the bar wiping off glasses readying them for the next customer. Mr. Dudley hailed Bill with a nod, "Brandy." He ordered. "Napoleon!"

"Huh?"

Kitty moved to the bar with a tray of dirty glasses for Pence to wipe clean, she smiled her lovely though weary smile. "Sorry Mr. Dudley, we don't carry Napoleon, not much call for it here in Dodge. Too expensive. We have some Le Peu that's not too bad. You might want to give it a try."

He tipped his top hat, "Thank you Miss Russell. That sounds like an excellent suggestion." He turned back to Pence. "Barkeep! A bottle of the Le Peu and two glasses." He looked back to Kitty as he removed his black kid leather gloves, "You will join me madam? I so hate to drink alone, especially when there is a vision of loveliness such as yourself to keep me company."

"I could do with a break Mr. Dudley, I'd be happy to join you."

Pence raised an eyebrow. Kitty had worked for him for the past two years. Red-hair, blue-eyes and pretty as they come, she added a touch of class to the place. When he first hired her it was with the intent she'd be working both upstairs and on the saloon floor. However, when the young marshal in town took a shine to the new girl, it soon put a stop to her working the crib. Bill had no desire to be on the wrong side of the law. He figured what the lawman got for free was worth any loss in residuals, for it guaranteed Dillon would be keeping a protective eye on the business. Besides that, Kitty had proved to have a quick mind for numbers and since she took over his books his profits had risen at a steady pace.

"Why don't we sit over here Mr. Dudley?" She pointed to the table near the back of the room, close to the potbelly stove. She was cold. Now that the sun was setting the air was filled with a definite chill. "It will be more private. I'd like to hear about your travels. Your father said you've been to Europe."

Bill delivered the bottle of Le Peu and their glasses. Interested to hear what Dudley might have to say to Kitty, he lingered using the excuse of stoking the wood burner.

"It is true Miss Russell, I have traveled far and wide seeing the great wonders of the world, but they dim in comparison to your beauty."

Kitty responded with a crooked smile, she knew she was pretty, but she also knew when she was being fed a line of bull. Still and all, it was a salve to her ego, and Lord knew, her ego needed a strong dose of healing balm after the past two weeks.

So, she sat with the young man for nearly an hour listening to him expound on the highlights of his trip. She was content to enjoy the fine brandy, warm fire and the chance to rest her feet. It wouldn't be long before the night crowd started flowing in and even in the frigid cold of January, Saturdays in Dodge were never dull.

By the time a third of the bottle had been consumed Kitty was completely and utterly bored. She placed a hand to Mr. Dudley's arm, "I could listen to you talk all night long but I'm afraid I need to go upstairs and change for this evening."

He nodded his head in sad understanding. "Alas, I should be getting home to the Double Double D. Mother is still not used to having me back home, she will worry if I miss supper without giving her proper notice. Please, walk me out Miss Russell."

She did and as he opened the front door she caught a glimpse of Matt Dillon offering a hand to Miss Gladys Frumpton as she alighted her buggy. Kitty watched too as that young woman placed a small gloved hand to the crook of Dillon's arm and he escorted her down the street to Delmonico's.

Mr. Dudley caught the direction of her glare, "He's a fool. As is she. Miss Russell."

Kitty's eyes never left the pair, "It's no never-mind to me. None of my concern."

Mr. Dudley placed his top-hat on his head, and then reached out to tuck an errant red curl behind her ear. His eyes were soft when he asked, "Miss Russell, would you do me the honor of escorting me to Delmonico's tomorrow evening for dinner?"

She didn't even turn to look at him, "I'd love to." Her affirmative reply was flat. It was as an afterthought that she looked back to him and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Meanwhile, over at Delmonico's the handsome young Marshal sat with a smile pasted to his face as he attempted to appear interested in his current dinner companion. Gladys was a cute little thing, slightly plump, with black hair and dark brown eyes. She wore her hair in a cascade of ringlets that bounced and bobbed with her every movement. Her cheeks were dimpled and she had a sweet little mouth that could jabber nonstop for hours. At this moment, Gladys was going on and on about her friend Millie Wilkins disagreement with her new husband regarding the color and style of draperies for their front parlor.

The lawman's mind was not on his dinner date's prattle, nor even the state of peacekeeping in the Gomorrah of the Plains, no my friend, his mind was considering the glimpse he'd caught of Kitty Russell and Daryl D. Dudley at the Long Branch doors.

He'd heard Daryl was back in town, his old man had been crowing about his son's accomplishments since last spring. The younger Dudley had graduated from Harvard law school with high honors and had recently returned from a trip to Europe. It was the elder man's plan that his son would enter public life; run for office. "Why, that boy could be President one day!" D. Delmar Dudley had boasted broadly.

Matt scratched his head. So what was he doing with Kitty Russell? A saloon girl would never fit in with the old man's plans. An association with Kitty would sully the good Dudley name. D. Delmar Dudley would only accept a pure young woman of equal or greater social status who could partner in helping young Mr. Dudley attain his true potential in the political arena.

Gladys brought Marshal Dillon back to reality, "What do you think Matt, is Millie right? I think Millie's right and I think it's just horrid that her husband won't listen to her, after all the house is a woman's domain and she should have final say. If she wants purple brocade and pink tassels than she should have purple brocade and pink tassels, what does a man know about brocade and tassels ... don't you agree Matt? Matt! MATTHEW! Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm listening." He replied before taking a bite of steak and chewing it thoroughly, thereby negating the need to answer more completely.

Gladys continued chatting away about things Dillon had no possible interest in and soon his mind drifted back to the circumstance that had lead to this sad state of affairs.

Before Kitty Russell had appeared on the Dodge City scene, the farthest thing from his mind had been a permanent alliance. He ran free range, a man with a badge had too, his only oath was to the U.S. Marshal's office. It wouldn't be fair to settle down with one woman and the responsibilities that entailed. He thought Kitty understood that, maybe even wanted things that way. They were friends, they got on well, joked and laughed together. Why just seeing her smile was enough to lighten his load and there was certainly no other woman he desired in his bed with the same zeal he did her. Well, she'd sure put a stopper in that bottle. He still couldn't believe she'd used the 'L' word.

He heaved a huge sigh of emotional confusion. Gladys mistook it as a sign of contentment. She smiled back at him and fluttered her lush dark lashes.

Dillon didn't even notice. For his mind was still on that last meeting. It had been a spontaneous ardent exercise of lustful fulfillment. A look, a light touch, just finger toughing finger as she handed him a glass of beer, had sent a fire burning through them that only the most amorous consummation could extinguish. They'd rushed up the stairs, hand in hand pulling each other along in their haste to her room, dodging cowpokes, and gamblers in their hurry to tear clothes one from the other. Then in the aftermath, while their hearts were still trying to find a normal rhythm she'd said the word. He'd been more rattled by her declaration than anything he could remember. He had avoided her the next day, but that night during an attempted robbery at the bank, he'd been shot. It was just a flesh wound, enough to tear a good blue shirt and stain it red with blood, but nothing Doc hadn't been able to patch up. Kitty had rushed to his side and put up a fuss the like he'd never seen before. Carrying on like a hysterical female, she demanded he give up his badge before someone with a surer shot finished the job. This decree along with her earlier proclamation had been the final straw, as he saw it. A man had to take a stand, had to draw the line somewhere. In retrospect, he admitted to himself, he was a might harsh in his reply. "Look here Kitty, I'm a man with no strings attached to me, so don't go trying to tie me up in a fancy bow."

She'd stared back at him like he was talking crazy. She gave Doc the squint eye, "Better check him over again and make sure there isn't another bullet hole, maybe in his head or his heart."

Dillon sat up a little, which was a mistake. "NO one promised you a permanent relationship did they?" He declared, he was starting to feel a little woozy, blood loss will do that to you. He had a strong suspicion he was about to pass out. He sure didn't want her to be witness to that. "Best go on back to the saloon where you belong."

The words came out wrong, it wasn't how he meant it, but that verbal arrow had hit it's mark. Her blue eyes pooled and her bottom lip trembled for just a moment before she narrowed her glare and adjusted her shoulders. Her chin jutted forward as the tears turned to ice, "I'll do just that Mr. Dillon."

Physically, he healed within a few days and returned to his marshaling, but his late night rendezvous with Kitty Russell were a thing of the past. She ignored his presence when he entered the saloon and if they met on the street she averted her eyes or ducked into a store to completely avoid an encounter. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter. He didn't need her. There were plenty of other women in Dodge City. Fact was he was the most eligible bachelor in town, he could take his pick and have a different gal for every night of the week. Yet here he was sitting across the table from Gladys Frumpton trying to stick out the meal until dessert.

He'd been answering with an affirmative nod the whole dinner long without even a clue what he was agreeing to. It wasn't until the last crumb of apple pie had been fork scraped to his mouth that he realized he'd committed himself to another date.

"They have the grandest house in the county and I've heard there will be some very important people there. I wonder what I should wear? Chiffon or silk, maybe satin, oh satin would be divine, what do you think I should wear Matthew?"

His answer was the only thought that had stuck in his brain from the entire night's conversation. "How about purple brocade and pink tassels?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Somewhere betwixt the fantasyland of dreams and full wakefulness, Miss Gladys Frumpton floated in the arms of the man she loved, clad in a gown of satin, lace and whimsically trimmed with purple brocade and pink tassels.

Down the hall her parents Frank and Regina Frumptom snored gently enjoying their well earned slumber. Shoemakers by trade, they ran the humble but profitable Dodge City Cobbler Shoppe. Frank and Regina were respectable citizens of the community, attending church on a regular basis, participating in charitable causes and always willing to help a neighbor. A man could do a lot worse than marry into the Frumpton family, unless of course his own family had higher expectations.

**GSGSGS**

The winds of winter howled like moon drunk coyotes. Snow fell in a horizontal direction and the temperatures hovered just below the freezing mark on the general store thermometer. It was a safe guess there would be no bank robberies tonight. As a rule, outlaws were not partial to inclement weather. Frost feathered the windows of the Marshal's office. They rattled with every gust of wind and the curtains fluttered in response. The wood stove kept it warm enough for the occupants of the jail, but the young lawman in charge of Dodge City couldn't help but think there were warmer places to bed down for the night.

"Well, good heavens Mr. Dillon." whined Chester Goode, erstwhile assistant to the Marshal. "If you don't put a stop to all this nonsense right now, some other fella is gonna snatch her right up from under your nose." A veteran of the war, Chester was a tall young man with a bum right leg and a rather dense mindset. He sat reclining in a battered chair, his stiff limb propped a top the worn surface of the work table as he awkwardly plaited limp, soiled satin ribbon into a braided reata.

Trying his best to ignore his irksome companion, the lawman was occupied in his toilet preparation. He stood in front of the makeshift washstand, knees bent to allow his countenance to appear in the small cracked mirror hanging on the wall. His handsome face was lathered in soap. With one hand he adjusted his nose to allow the razor better access to the contours of his upper lip.

Chester's whine rose an octave, "Well, forever more ... don't that worry you none?" Dillon finished shaving and wiped the excess soap from his face with a towel. He reached for a bottle of imported Bay Rum and Lime hair tonic that had been a Christmas present from Kitty. It must have cost her dearly. Now, just remembering her reaction whenever he wore the stuff started his sap to flowing. He wouldn't have admitted to Chester his intentions for the evening, in fact he wasn't at all sure what his intentions were. He just knew he had a hunger for a certain redhead and not only for the pleasures her body afforded, but her laugh and smile too. Damn it all, he missed her! He took a deep breath and silently ordered. "Get a hold of yourself man."

Finally, he turned to give his assistant an answer, noncommittal though it was. "Kitty knows a lot of men."

Chester squinted and put down his handiwork. He stood and limped over to Matt Dillon, there he paused to take in the smooth shaven face, scent of Bay Rum and the clean blue shirt with string tie the Marshal wore. "Are you going over to the Long Branch to pay her court?"

The man with the badge scowled, "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to make rounds." Dillon stretched his frame, straightened his crooked string tie, adjusted his gun belt, grabbed his coat and hat and opened the door. The cold wind and snow came like a slap that stung his cheeks with it's power, but he pushed on out. He stood still for a moment surveying his town, eyes alert for anything amiss. The streets were quiet, even the sound of the Long Branch piano was muffled against the wintry elements. A few unfortunate horses were tied to the hitching rails, their backs to the wind and heads hunkered low against the force of the weather. Dillon stopped his scan just in time to look across the street and see Miss Kitty Russell entering Delmonico's Restaurant with the arm of Mr. Dudley wrapped protectively around her shoulders. The Marshal's sap abruptly stopped flowing.

GSGSGS

"I took the liberty of reserving the private dining room." Mr. Dudley spoke softly in her ear as they entered the semi-full eatery.

Heads popped up when the patrons realized who Mr. Dudley was escorting. The sound of tin scrapping stoneware stilled and the room was utterly quiet. With mouths agape, some with food spilling out, all eyes centered on the couple standing at the threshold. Kitty nodded at a few familiar faces. She smiled back at others and said under her breath to Mr. Dudley, "I didn't know Delmonico's had a private dining room."

Harvey the waiter wiped stew gravy off his hands and onto his apron. He walked up to the couple and gave a surprisingly courtly bow. "Right this way Mr. Dudley, got the room all set up fer ya, just the way you asked."

He led them to a door at the end of the common room and into a much smaller space. It was as she suspected little more than a butler's pantry. But, an intimate table for two had been set up complete with candles, lace tablecloth and elegant crystal stemware. A bottle of champagne was cooling in a sterling bucket on a side table.

She arched an eyebrow at Mr. Dudley.

He smiled back.

"I guess you took a few other liberties Mr. Dudley. Do I see a pattern developing here?"

Color brightened his cheeks, "Miss Russell, I would never presume to take liberties with you."

Again, the arched eyebrow from her.

A devilish smile tweaked his lips, "well, only with your permission, Madam." He opted for a quick change of subject. "Have I told you how lovely you look this evening?"

She was nobody's fool and the tone of her voice told him so, "Several times."

Now, it was Mr. Dudley whose eyebrows arched. He decided to play his hand closer to the vest. "May I take your wrap?" She turned her back to him so he could slide the fur trimmed cape from her shoulders. When she pivoted around to face him he couldn't help but smile. So much for a poker face. She truly was a vision. She wore a dark green satin gown with tiny sequins that sparkled in the candle light. No doubt it was a cheap imitation of something out of an old fashion periodical. Still, the hue and form fitting style suited her to perfection. The shades of green played off the russet of her hair and her creamy smooth complexion. A man would be a fool not to be moved by such a tempting sight.

She veiled her eyes beneath lush lashes. She had read the message written in the look he gave her and the slight catch to his breathing. She felt empowered in the knowledge he was attracted to her beauty. An ace in the hole was a valuable commodity. Kitty, ever the gambler wouldn't forget she held the high card. The secret was in playing it at the most opportune moment.

He held out the chair for her and then took his own. "You look very nice tonight, too." She complimented. It was an understatement. Mr. Dudley was a handsome man in a polished eastern sort of way. He wore a dark suit of the finest cloth and a ruffled white linen shirt that was prettier than anything she owned, and most likely cost more too. At his neck was a perfectly executed bow tie of black silk. He was stunning in his own right.

Sophie, the kitchen girl had been recruited as their private waitress. She wore a starched white apron that was clearly not from Delmonico's stock and her usually unruly hair had been tamed to a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She carried in her arms, a silver tray with a variety of appetizers on it. She held the tray out for Kitty's perusal. "I don't recall seeing these on the menu before." Kitty commented.

Mr. Dudley looked a tad chagrinned, "Um ... as I said I took the ..."

"liberty." She finished for him and they both laughed with an easy conviviality.

"Might I interest you in a glass of champagne? Lafite de Rothschild - from my father's private stock."

"I can't remember the last time I had good champagne." Her mouth lifted in a flirty curl, "I love the way the bubbles tickle my nose."

"This will be a treat for you then." He stood again and took the linen napkin that had been placed next to the ice bucket, he picked up first one fluted glass and then the other meticulously removing any hint of lint or dust. With the linen napkin still in hand he removed the bottle from the sterling ice cooler. He gently eased the cork on the expensive bottle of libation. He glanced up at her, "The idea is to produce a 'contented sigh' from the champagne rather than a pop. This will insure maximum ... bubbles to tickle that delightful nose of yours."

He gave a twist and the cork popped hitting the ceiling and then ricocheted off the wall. They both laughed again, enjoying the humour of the moment.

He gave her a wicked wink and a teasing smile with teeth so perfect they could have been carved from pearls, "I may need to find something else to tickle your nose."

Mr. Dudley picked up a fluted etched glass, tilted it just so, and then filled it. He did the same with the second glass and then handed the first one to her. "May I offer a toast?" He asked holding his glass in front of him.

"Please do."

"To our happy future, may it prove fruitful for us both." Their glasses clinked together and they each took a sip, the sparkling wine still had enough bubble to tickled her nose. She looked at Mr. Dudley over the rim of the glass and as she did the image of her friend the Marshal passed before her mind's eye. She felt a wave of guilt, however, the image of Gladys Frumptom followed close behind putting an end to her remorse.


End file.
